Then the enchanted mouth was softly pressing her own, the oily tongue penetrating her mouth, and Lauralee accepted it happily even as she realized that she was being given a taste of her own pussy juices. Her pulses thundered anew at the thought, and she found herself sucking upon Bettina's tongue.

The girl was locked firmly between her spread thighs now, and Lauralee knew the wondrous softness of a humid pussy being forced against her own. Just as the two actors had done on TV, she thought dizzily, and it was working; she could feel the pressure as Bettina sought to rub their clits together. Her long, lean legs raised themselves and curled around the slim body, so that she could help, so she could draw the beautiful girl closer.

Oh, it was so thrilling! Their breasts moved together, nipples brushing nipples, and Lauralee locked her legs around her lover's moving, thrusting body. Cunt to cunt, they stroked together, and it was slippery, juicy, the occasional touching of their clits a fabulous sensation.

They were actually doing it, Lauralee thought; they were really FUCKING. She wriggled and rolled back upon her shoulder blades, so the girl could use her clit like a miniature penis – no, a PRICK – and moved her crotch with welcoming, sinuous motions. Locked in each other's arms, their mouths and their bodies welded together, they screwed blissfully, the perfect tenderness bringing a slow but deeply gratifying love to them. Lauralee was ecstatic. She knew only a momentary stab of guilt, soon gone and gladly denied. She knew only a passing moment of regret that all of her thirty-six years had been wasted, before this night.

Her husband could have done this to her, if only he had been kind and gentle instead of such an animal. Marshall might have made her body sing, too. But Lauralee doubted that; he was just a man, without the delicate touch this adorable girl owned, without her assurance.